


When The Night Comes - Entela (Fan Hunter)

by Fawnsummer



Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Grief, Mild Gore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, NSFW, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, implied suicide, when the night comes, when the night comes game, wtnc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawnsummer/pseuds/Fawnsummer
Summary: When the Night Comes is a supernatural otome game due for release in October 2018https://whenthenightcomesgame.tumblr.com/Finnegan belongs to the WTNC devs, and Entela, Dorian & Petra belong to meIf a chapter is NSFW I'll put it in the title





	1. Petra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entela and Petra belong to me

Entela sat alone in the corner of the packed-to-bursting tavern. She dragged a long leg up, her chin resting on her knee as she looked down at the book in front of her.

She was doing everything she could to distract herself from her own thoughts, but nothing could stop that one word from floating around her head ceaselessly.

Petra.

Petra. Petra. Petra. Petra. Petra. Petra. Petra.

Where are you?

One minute, they were tangled up in bed sheets, chanting each other’s names like litanies in the dark. And then, she was gone. Disappeared as though she’d never existed. The apartment they shared had remained untouched in the four months since. Entela couldn’t bring herself to go there yet, to see the unmade bed, Petra’s things littered around the room. The smell of her.

People don’t just disappear. Someone, somewhere knew where Petra was, and Entela was going to find them.

She closed the book and stretched. The patrons had begun to thin out, but one figure caught Entela’s eye. They were standing by the door, wearing a long hooded cloak. Something about the way they stood was familiar to her. The casual tilt of the hips, the way they wrapped an arm around themselves.

It couldn’t be, could it?

Shakily, Entela stashed the book in her bag and stood. Noting her movements, the figure turned for the door.

No, wait.

Entela hurried after them into the cold night.

 

—

 

The frigid air flushed Entela’s cheeks as she followed the hooded figure through the dark streets. As they rounded a corner, she picked up the pace, to find them waiting for her.

Entela wasn’t afraid, even though she knew she should be. That’s the thing about losing something you love. Nothing, including yourself, really matters anymore.

The figure was trembling beneath their hood as Entela approached. Her heart thundered in her chest as she reached for them.

“Who are you?”

With a shaky, gloved hand the figure removed their hood. Long, blonde waves tumbled out..

“Petra?”

The figure nodded. It was Petra, but she was changed. She was even more beautiful than Entela remembered. Her pale skin glowed like moonlight. Her beautiful features looked sharper somehow, more defined. Entela had traced the line of those lips many, many times, but they looked foreign to her.

“What happened to you?” she whispered, her voice hoarse with restrained emotion.

Petra released a cry; low and guttural like an animal. “Don’t come any closer.” Red tears streaked the perfect planes of her cheekbones.

This was the love of her life. Missing for four months and seventeen days. Dread filled Entela like a toxin. She had imagined so many things. She’d gone over every possibility of what could have happened Petra. She had imagined her dead in a gutter somewhere but this, she had never thought of this.

“Oh Petra.” Entela’s voice broke as she stroked away bloody tears with her thumbs.

“You’re a vampire.”


	2. Don't Look Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vampire walks into a bar...
> 
> Finnegan belongs to the WTNC devs and the hunter siblings Dorian & Entela belong to me

Dorian and Entela were in the tavern, huddled together in their favourite booth like two conspirators. Entela swirled the gin around in her glass, holding it up to the candlelight to watch the little whirlpool.

“Why does gin always look a bit blue?”

“Because it’s sad” Dorian replied, a cigarette filter dangling from his lips.

“Idiot” Entela elbowed him in the ribs. The cigarette he was trying to roll landed on the table. As he picked it up, he noticed a pair of golden eyes gleaming towards them a few tables down.

“Don’t look now Telly.” He whispered dramatically. “But you’ve been marked.”

“What?” she glanced in the direction Dorian was looking in.

“Oh fuck…” she shrank down into her seat, trying to brush her dark hair into her face in an attempt to hide herself.

‘What are you doing?” Dorian chuckled.

“It’s him!” she hissed.

“Who?”

“The dude I told you about.”

“Is that so?” he said in a teasing tone.

“Fucking hell Dor, what do I do?”

“Go and talk to him.”

“No way. He’ll eat me alive…”

Dorian’s shoulder’s shook with silent laughter. Suddenly, he dropped the half rolled cigarette and gripped her shoulder.

“Do you smell that?” he glanced dramatically around the tavern.

“What? What!” Entela couldn’t hide the panic in her voice.

“I smell… glorious sexual tension” he squeezed her shoulder. “Go and talk to him.”

“I hate you” she hissed, straightening up. I’m just going to have to ignore him she told herself. Ignore the delicious vampire on the other side of the room who keeps staring at her.

And licking his lips.

Fuckity fuck.

“I can’t do this” she murmured.

“What are you talking about, that vamp is small fry compared with what you’ve dealt with in the past and anyway. I’ve spoken to Finn and you’re fucking made for each other.” 

Dorian popped the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The vamp” he blew the smoke out in the onlooker’s direction.

“His name is Finn and he’s interested in you, so you had better put him out of his misery.”

“What the actual fuck Dor!” she clapped him on the back of the head. “What kind of brother are you?”

“The kind that wants my sister to stop freaking out and live.”

He thumped a fist down on the table. “Live goddammit live!” he shrieked loudly, turning every enforcer in the tavern’s attention to them.

“One of these days, I’ll cut you” she hissed venomously.

“I don’t doubt it” he replied, flicking ash into his empty glass. “But between now and then, do me a favour and do that vampire.”

Entela gasped, feigning horror at her brother’s abhorrent crudeness. Dorian is always like this, with everyone.

“Seriously, I’m scared to light a match between the two of you.”

“Go away” Entela shoved him out of the booth.

“I’m going, I’m going. Duty calls.” He winked at her, before slinking out of the booth and into the shadows.

Entela took a steadying breath before lifting her eyes towards the onlooker. Their gazes locked and she watched as he finished his whiskey and sauntered over to her like a panther closing in on its kill.

“Hello Entela” he purred. “I’m Finn.”

Entela indicated for the vampire to sit in the seat opposite, but he vexed her by sliding into the seat right next to her. He was so close, too close for comfort, but she dared not move away. His powerful presence and unmistakable otherworldliness was making her light headed but she wasn't prepared to let him know that. 

She turned her body to face him, propping an elbow on the table. “So, Finn the vampire” she began casually.

“What brings you to my edge of the shadows?”

His slow smirk revealed gleaming white teeth and one, very pointy, very sexy fang.

'I'm going to kill Dor!' She screamed internally.

Entela didn't know where to look. Her gaze fluttered down over Finn's throat, down to his exposed collarbones. His shirt was open to his navel, revealing his muscled torso and a smattering of dark hair that trailed over his chest and down…. down.

'Ridiculous' she muttered to herself.

He chuckled softly. The sound low and guttural. Had she said something funny?

With unfathomable speed, he curled a finger beneath her chin, gently tilting her head to expose her throat. She always kept her hair short; to just below her ears, so her neck was always on show, but the stretch of it made her feel vulnerable. Then she realised…

'Oh my gods, he's going to bite me!'

“Only if you ask nicely” he said, still eying the expanse of her throat.

Had she said that out loud?

“I like your tattoo.” He traced a finger over the serpent etched into the skin on the side of her neck.

'Oh, he’s just admiring the tattoo. I'm am idiot.'

“Thank you” she squeaked out.

“Did it hurt?” He licked his lips, but his face had an odd expression. A little furrow stitched his perfect brows together. 

“Yes” she replied, watching his face. He traced the tattoo’s lines, his touch ice cold, cooling her scorching skin.

“It's pretty” he said, removing his hand. The lack of touch felt like an abyss opening inside her. And it had been the barest of touches - just fingertips brushing the skin. Even so, she shuddered to think what those cold hands would feel like pressed against her fully, on her stomach or her thigh or….

He quirked an eyebrow at her. 

Her brother Dorian was always telling her she wears her feelings on her face. Could this vampire tell she was thinking sinful things about those slender hands of his?

Gods help her.

Maybe he was glamouring her. Maybe he was like the fae and could appear devastatingly beautiful on the outside, while hiding the rotting, decaying creature beneath.

She looked into his eyes, like golden torches in the low light. There was something there she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something she'd never seen in the eyes of an immortal before. Was it regret perhaps? She assumed he'd done some terrible things since becoming undead. Could he still be holding onto a strand of humanity that carried the weight of regret? No, she was totally fantasising now. Immortals don't carry emotional burdens. 

Yet, something twinged inside her when she looked into those eyes. She knew the look he was giving her; the look of vulnerability. 

Definitely a glamour, she decided.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The vampire asked, leaning back in his seat. She chuckled at the old saying, but then the penny dropped as a thread of knowledge swept in.

Vampires can read minds.


	3. So, You Think I'm Hot?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnegan belongs to the WTNC devs, Trice belongs to Immortallaughter on tumblr, and Entela belongs to me

Entela snorted into her drink. “You're such a bullshitter Trice. You can't expect me to believe that actually happened!”

They were sitting together at the bar, six empty shot glasses sat in front of them.

“I swear! I couldn't make this up if I tried.” They both burst into ripples of laughter, Trice leaning on her friend for support. “My gods Telly, don't let Rend see those boots or you'll never see them again.” 

Entela glanced down at her thigh high lace ups. “I'd like to see him try.”

The door to the tavern swung open. A cold draft blew in sending shivers down Entela's spine. 

“That's my cue.” Trice gathered up her things and hopped down from the stool. Entela turned to see who had come in from the night.

It was him.

“You can't leave me!” Entela hissed, squeezing Trice’s wrist. 

“You'll be fine Telly, trust me.”

“But I don't want to,” she whined. “Talk to him or trust you.”

Trice chuckled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her friend's forehead.

“Stop lying to my face.” Then she was gone.

Entela groaned, signalling for the bartender. She needed the strongest of drinks if she was going to do this.

She felt rather than saw the vampire stride past behind her, to a booth close to the bar. Picking up the two glasses of whiskey, she swung her long legs down from the stool and sauntered over to the booth.

“Nice boots.” He gazed at her appreciatively.

“Thanks.” She slid into the seat opposite.

“Two whiskeys?” the vampire asked.

She slid a glass towards him, gasping when his iron hand closed over hers with unfathomable speed.

“You're not going to sit next to me?”

“No.” she replied haughtily. “I need you and your hands where I can see them.”

The vampire grinned, slow and sensual. He was good at this, but she refused to be baited.

“So, what's new Finnegan?” She gazed at him over the rim of her glass. He really was something to look at. The smoothness of his skin, and point of his ears made her heart ache. Petra was beautiful like him, and she would have become more so with time.

“Just the usual business of bloodsucking.” he said, his face completely deadpan.

“Is it difficult?” she asked, surprising him.

“Yes and no.” he looked at her quizzically. “Bloodsucking is easy, immortality not so much.”

Immortality. 

Entela blanched a little. Petra could have lived forever.

“Entela?” the vampire stared at her, a look of concern on his face.

“What? You can read minds can't you?”

“Yes, but I don't want to. Not yours.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Why is he so… caring?

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked gently.

“Pfffttt of course not” she rolled her eyes. “It's not fear, it's just… I'm disconcerted.”

“Why?”

“Because you're not what I expect.”

He trapped her leg between his beneath the table, making her gasp. “I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. Just say the word.”

“What do you want from me?”

He blinked at her. Who was this girl? She seemed to appear out of nowhere with those eyes like emeralds and a thick veil of sadness that clung to every inch of her.

“I-I don't want anything from you. I just want to know you, that's all.”

She raised an elegant brow at him. She could feel the whiskey warming her blood, slowing her down, diluting her misgivings.

“Oh, I get it.” She regarded him with a fist beneath her chin. “So you think I'm hot?”

Finn laughed. A disbelieving sound that rumbled in his chest. “You could say that.”


	4. The Vampire's Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entela, Petra belong to me. This was written for the following prompt - “Holding their partner’s unconscious/dead body”
> 
> CW: Blood, vampire mess, implied suicide, angst, grief

Entela knew something was wrong the moment she woke up. She stretched her long limbs, feeling slightly sore from the previous night's activities. Smiling dreamily, she recalled Petra’s soft skin and the powerful muscles that moved beneath it; how they hummed with the strain Petra put on them in an effort to hold herself back. 

She was so strong in her new form, doorknobs frequently gave way in her hands, and she was so terrified of hurting Entela. So terrified, that she often refused to touch her at all.

A shaft of yellow light hit the wall next to Entela. She sat up suddenly. That’s it. She’d dreamt of Petra’s tears dampening her skin, the blood pooling on the sheets while sunlight filtered through calico curtains. She lifted the pillow, and sure enough; the fine cotton was stained red. 

She shouldn't have been here at sun up, she should have gone to ground by then.

Dread seeped into Entela's heart; cold and frigid as she forced herself to stand. 

“No no no no…” she chanted, sending books and quills tumbling to the floor as she hunted for something she didn’t want to find. She held the parchment in shaking hands. The words; written in Petra’s familiar hand blurred with the tears that threatened to make the ink run.

I’m sorry… I love you… I'm sorry...

Entela yanked the door open and flew down the stairs. Her flimsy nightdress rucked up her thighs, her bare feet slapped against the worn, wooden floorboards. 

Breathlessly, she broke outside to an empty courtyard. A gentle, morning breeze whispered through the leaves of the lone oak tree, but her gaze fell on the ground below it. She moved as though in slow motion, sinking to her knees. 

This can't be happening, she thought as she lay both palms flat in the crimson pool. White noise filled her ears as she traced her fingers manically through the still-warm blood, her heart pounded in her chest so hard, she hoped it would burst. She wanted it to beat too fast and kill her, then she could be with her again - with Petra. 

Entela sat back on her heels, blinking up at the tree where a bird chirped, so precious and fragile, and oblivious to the morbidity below. Even in vampirism; with endless power and immortality, Petra was as breakable as ever. Entela couldn’t help laughing; a shrill, terrible sound that pierced the tranquility of the courtyard. 

This isn’t you, you’re not really gone.

A door slammed somewhere, and Entela felt herself fade, as though leaving her body entirely. She watched from the branches of the tree as she was hauled out of the bloody mess by her brother, Dorian. She watched herself shake and strain against him as he lifted her gently into his strong arms, whispering soothing words into her ear, and stroking her sodden hair away from her forehead. She looked on, as he shouted to a group of onlookers to “find someone to clean this shit up!” 

Her big brother, always the strong one in the family, swiped his face - wet with tears and vampire mess as he carried Entela away from death.

I love you  
It should be enough  
Come back to me...


	5. Bite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnegan & Ezra belong to the WTNC devs and Entela belongs to me

Entela gasped as Ezra applied the poultice to her wound. While he tried to be as gentle as possible, the scratch was a deep one; two jagged lines that swept across her flank.  
Lying on her side, she tried to focus on a knoll in one of the floorboards but out of the corner of her eye, she could see the vampire. His eyes glowed ominously, and his hands fluttered at his sides as though he didn't know what to do with them. She knew she was in big, big trouble once the witch left.

Wincing a little, she sat up. Ezra handed her a steaming, cup of something that smelt like rotten leaves. She wrinkled her nose, and leaned over to set it on the nightstand.

“If I were you, I'd drink up.” Ezra placed the cup back in her hands. “It's just a relaxant. Trust me, you'll want to be relaxed when the poultice starts to leech the poison out.”

Entela sighed, but took a long drag of the tea. Sure enough, it tasted as bad as it smelt, but its effect was immediate. She felt warmth flood through her body as she took another foul sip.

Ezra had packed up his things and was talking to the vampire by the door. Gazing at them through the steam of the tea, she noticed how the vampire's body language changed around him. He seemed relaxed and at ease, as though he’d known Ezra a long time, perhaps intimately. She couldn't hear what was being said, but she knew chemistry when she saw it.

“Stay out of trouble!” Ezra called from the door before disappearing into the catacombs. Finn quietly closed the door behind him.

Uh oh.

She tossed back the last of the tea as the bed sagged beneath Finn’s weight as he sat next to her.

“Just say it.” she sighed.

“Say what?”

“That it's my own fault for not listening to you. That I should have taken the catacombs…”

“Yes you should have, but what's done is done.”

Entela narrowed her eyes at him. “You're not going to say ‘I told you so’ or ‘you're an idiot’?”

“You're an idiot.” He said flatly.

Entela barked a laugh.

“I think what I'm about to do, will be punishment enough.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly anxious.

Finn rubbed the back of his neck with an iron hand. “Ezra said the poison leeching will raise your temperature quite a bit. You'll be feverish which can be dangerous…”

“You are kidding?”

The vampire shook his head seriously. “This isn't a joke Entela, you could've died!”

“I'm not letting you keep me cool while I’m delirious with fever!”

“If you let me hold you, then you won't get a fever!”

Despite herself, she smirked. If he ever deigned to read her thoughts, he'd know how often he raised her temperature, just by glancing at her.

Oh, if only she wasn’t wounded!

“Fine!” She huffed, swinging her legs under the blankets.

With a nod, Finn moved to the other side of the bed.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I'm taking my clothes off.”

“All of them?”

“It will be more efficient if I do. Is there a problem?”

She scowled. “Just get in.”

Entela turned back onto her side, and smiled into her pillow as he got in beside her.

Oh my fucking gods!

Finn slid beneath the blankets as silently as a ghost, ever so gently nestling his cold body behind her. She shivered as his magically constructed arm wound around her waist, careful to avoid the bandage.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly, his lips brushing the nape of her neck.

“Hmmm” she murmured, while internally screaming. Through her thin nightdress, she could feel every cool, delicious inch of him.

Please don't read my thoughts, please don't read my thoughts...

“In future, will you please just use the catacombs. You have nothing to fear from the other members of my clan, you're under my protection…”

She wished she could tell him why she would rather risk an altercation with a lycan or even the fae, than walk through the catacombs, with a vamp lurking around every bend. But she couldn't. She couldn't tell him about Petra and have him think she was irrevocably broken. Unable to be fixed, unable to love again.

“Oh bite me!” she hissed.

“If you insist.” Finn rested his lips on the side of neck, opening his mouth to drag sharp teeth lightly along her shoulder.

Entela froze. Although she threw idle threats at him all the time, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she wanted him to bite her. She wanted him to do a lot of things and usually, it filled her with guilt just thinking about them. To make up for it, she was cruel to him, over and over, hoping he would put her out of her misery and leave her be.  
When Finn moved his mouth away, she turned in his arms. He stiffened, his face etched with concern over her sudden movement. He was so beautiful. The candlelight made his luminous skin shimmer, and his eyes dance like ethereal lights. She thought he had the kind of face people would wage wars over.

Entela touched his cheek with the back of her hand.

Are you ever going to kiss me?

Finn's expression remained concerned, but he didn't speak. She knew he hadn't heard her, he still wouldn't let himself listen to her thoughts.

She felt warm and fuzzy as the relaxant took hold, but still clear enough of mind to do what she'd wanted to do since she first set eyes on him, broken or not.

His lips were impossibly soft. He hesitated for a fraction of a second as her lips grazed his before relenting, deepening the kiss until a moan escaped her. She ran her tongue along the point of a fang before pulling away.

“Do that again” he breathed, lips glistening.


	6. I Failed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct follow on from 'A Vampire's Wife'

Dorian lay Entela gently on the couch before disappearing into the bathroom. She sat up in a daze, unable to string together coherent thoughts.

Death  
Petra  
This isn’t real

After a few minutes, he returned with a bowl of hot water and cloths. She just sat there staring at him as he gently washed the blood and bits of bones from her hands and arms. His lips were moving but she didn’t hear a word of it.

Death  
Petra  
I failed her

With pink tinged hands, Dorian placed a cup of spiked tea and one of his “special cigarettes” on the side-table nearest her.

“It will help.” He said, his voice shaking a little.

She looked at him then, as though she was seeing him for the first time; with his tear-stained face and messy hair. Entela lit the cigarette and took a long drag. She immediately relaxed as the herbal smoke brought to mind a calm meadow and wild flowers. Dorian took it from her and stubbed it out on his boot, shifting the bowl aside and hauling her into his arms again.

“Dor!” She startled him, nearly poking him in the eye with her hand as she wrapped them around his neck.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

“You’ll be okay, I’ve got you.” 

He put her in his bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin, tucking the sides in tightly.

“Why am I not enough?”

“You are enough Tela.”

“Why couldn’t s-she… she…”

“You know how tender hearted Petra was. She was too sensitive for immortality.” 

Entela’s face crumbled.

“Sssshhh it’s alright.”

“It should have been me.”

Dorian sat back on his heels to look at her. His little sister. So beautiful, loving, feisty and a pain in the arse, now reduced to this. It completely broke his heart.

“I failed her.”

“Listen to me. This isn’t your fault.” his voice shook with emotion as he held her chin firmly, forcing her to look into his leaf green eyes; eyes that are hers.

“Sleep now.”

“Don’t leave me.” She croaked, her small hand reaching for his.

“I won’t.”

Dorian kept hold of Entela’s hand as she fell into a fitful sleep. Dreams of burning flesh and fear. Of silver wedding bands melting down to nothing. Of blood and tears and a life-long ache. 

Horrible dreams she hoped she’d never wake from.


	7. A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn belongs to the When The Night Comes Game devs, and Entela belongs to me.

Entela knocked tentatively on the vampire’s door. She had come down here with a purpose, but as she waited for him to open the door, all her intentions were evaporating like a puddle on a hot day. But she had something she needed to tell him, something she should have told him from the beginning.

He opened the door wide as though he’d been expecting her. “Hello Entela.” He purred, stepping aside to let her in.

'What was I saying?' Entela asked herself, as she brushed past his shirtless form.

Honestly, Finn was unbearably attractive, and so kind. How someone who had lived for so long, and seen so much, still managed to be humble and caring was beyond her.

She scoured the dimly lit room, noting the shelves lined with the books and the huge bed with its dark sheets. She swallowed uncomfortably. Deciding to avoid the bed, she meandered over to the desk strewn with papers and quills.

“Hold on.” Finn strode over and started shuffling the papers into a pile, his face was unreadable while his prosthetic arm glowed brightly. She wondered idly if it responds to his emotions at all.

“Sorry, I wasn’t going to pry.” She said, bending to pick up a sheet of parchment that had floated to the floor.

Straightening slowly, she realised it was a sketch of a face. It wasn’t very detailed, but care had been taken in the shape of the eyes and the curve of the lips. Entela held her breath as she looked at a sketch of herself. Her head tilted slightly, revealing her serpent tattoo, and her mouth curled in a wry smile. It was like looking at an alternative version of herself, a mirror image. She looked the same, yet there was something completely different about it. The artist had drawn her to look stunning, which wasn’t how she saw herself at all.

Finn had both hands flat on the desk, his face turned away from her.

“Finn…” she placed the sketch between his hands. “Is this really how you see me?”

He sighed unnecessarily; turning to face her. Entela pushed forward and crushed her lips to his. He staggered, then righted himself on the desk, pulling her on top of him. She lay pressed up against his chest as she explored him with her mouth; feeling him shudder beneath her as she bit his lip, moaning as he nipped her back. 

The kiss was unexplainable and foreign. The taste of him brought to mind the most expensive whiskey, the softest velvet, the sweetest honey. She’d been kissed plenty of times before, but not like this; this was raw and hungry and neither of them could quite get close enough to the other.

Suddenly, she was on her back amongst the parchments and spilled ink, his sharp teeth grazing the soft skin below her ear. “You’re beautiful Entela, so beautiful. That’s how I see you” he murmured into her neck.

His lips felt so deliciously cold against her flaming skin, and she couldn’t bare the thought of him not touching her. She curled her fingers into the hair at his nape while her legs curled around his waist, pulling him closer still.

“Tell me again” she whispered.


	8. You're cold, come here

“You smell so good” Petra murmured against her warm skin. Entela took a steadying breath; so close to losing herself in the strange yet familiar touch, but she couldn’t give in, not fully.  
She winced when the sharp sting of a fang glanced off her collarbone. Fair hair slipped through her fingers like silk ribbons as cold lips pressed against her breast, so close to her heart, too close. The fear was almost unbearable.  
“Don’t you love me anymore?”  
“Of course I do, It’s just…” Entela’s gaze fell to the cotton sheets, dotted with blood.  
You’re not you.  
Was this the moment that pushed Petra away? Was it because of how she reacted to her touch that night that solidified her resolve to end things so spectacularly?  
Entela needed someone to blame and as she was the one left behind, it would always be herself.  
“Tela, Tela, Tela…”  
“I’m alright” she said, swatting at the disembodied voice. “I have to live this.”  
“You’re dreaming, love.”  
Golden eyes met hers in the dark, drawing her back into herself.  
You’re not her but you’re the same. Why don’t you frighten me?  
“You know why.” He whispered.  
Finn was ancient, so much so that the shadows clung to him as though they were one in the same. She guessed in some ways they were because try as she might, she couldn’t find where he began, and the darkness ended.  
But then, she had never known the boy that came before.  
“You wear the night so well.”  
He smiled in response, white fangs gleaming as he reached down to cup her cheek.  
“You’re cold! Come here!” she gasped melodramatically, tugging the raven-haired vampire on top of her. She felt his laughter to the bone as he gathered her in his arms. And when he pressed his gorgeous mouth to the fevered skin above her heart. She still wasn’t afraid.


End file.
